


Wet Wig

by Niektete (therealfroggy)



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/Niektete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shipless pirate, a defrocked commander, and one too many bottles of rum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet Wig

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the most wonderful art of the Theban Band, namely these two pieces:  
> http://www.squidge.org/~praxisters/potc/rum.html  
> and  
> http://www.squidge.org/~praxisters/potc/wetwig.html (NSFW)

“Lend us your wig, then, commodore.”

Jack made a grab for Norrington's white wig. The other man batted his hand away and raised his chin, looking important. “No,” he said, “I can't. My wig's... work-related, you see. Wouldn't befit my office.”

Jack grinned, then took another sip of rum. “They gave you the boot anyway. Can't get any worse.”

Norrington's eyes darkened. “Don't, Sparrow.”

“It wasn't my fault,” Jack defended, handing the rum bottle over. “I just... ran off.”

Norrington scowled, downing a whole lot of rum in one go. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth, handing the bottle to Jack. “You should have let me bring you in.”

“I did, once,” Jack reminded him. “Not my fault. Will and Miss Swann -”

Norrington growled and snatched the bottle back. “Don't remind me. That damn... wench. If she knew what was best for her -”

“She'd have boarded _my_ ship,” Jack interrupted, laughing. “Give over, commodore; the wench is gone. Find something else to occupy your nights.”

Norrington paled. “I never... Miss Swann is an honourable lady, Sparrow! She is not occupying _anyone's_ nights!”

Jack shook his head. “Actually, she'd likely married to Will by now. At least he's got himself lucky.”

Norrington groaned, emptying the last of the rum into his mouth. “Blast it!”

Jack looked sadly at the empty bottle. “You're buying the next round.”

As the two men staggered through the streets of Tortuga, Jack tried to teach Norrington a few sailor songs with lewd lyrics and Norrington searched his pockets for coins. They found a tavern and spent their last coppers on a new bottle of rum, then staggered back into the night.

“Aaand, it's home, boys, home!” Jack hollared, swinging the bottle in time with his own tempo. “Home, I'd like to be at home for a while in the old conterey...”

“You must be pronouncing that last word wrong,” Norrington insisted, reaching around Jack for the bottle. “And I'm sure the tune doesn't go like that...”

“No, nonsense,” Jack said, then drew a deep breath. “I know how this goes.

_She jumped into the bed, making no alarm  
thinking the young sailor lad would do to her no harm..._ ”

Norrington began giggling. “But she's wrong,” he chuckled, throwing an arm around Jack's shoulders. He stumbled, and the two men swerved into the nearest wall.

Jack grinned and threw his arm around the other man's shoulders as well. They stood there, leaning against the wall, and grinned at each other.

“Fine, I'll lend you the wig,” Norrington declared. “But don't spill rum on it!”

Jack, grinning wider than ever, snatched the wig from the other man's head and threw it haphazardly onto his own.

“Shall I escort you to the ball, Miss Swann?” he mocked, dancing around his companion. “Or shall I escort your betrothed to bed, instead?”

Norrington gasped in drunken outrage. “Her betrothed! Sparrow, that's _William Turner_ you're taking about!”

Jack laughed, bumping back into the wall and throwing his arm back around his companion's shoulders. “I know. Pretty lad, isn't he?”

Norrington's grin returned, lopsided. “Are you implying, captain Sparrow, that a _man_ has caught your fancy?”

Jack shrugged. “He's fine enough to look at, but what a bore, eh?”

Norrington sniggered, reclaiming his wig. “Excessively so.”

“We should have taught 'em a thing or two,” Jack said importantly, raising the bottle to his lips. “You and me. Could have taken turns.”

Norrington looked sheepish, but toasted to himself and drank. Jack's fingers were still attached to the bottle, and he looked pensive.

“I mean, she's an _honourable lady_ and he's a twat,” Jack mused. “They wouldn't be able to tell up from down on each other.”

“You mean you never taught him?” Norrington asked, intrigued. “Since he's such a... pretty lad?”

Jack sneered. “Tried, didn't I? No luck, commodore; the boy's stiff as a board – and not in the good way.”

They both chuckled lewdly at that. Jack had another sip of rum, then struggled back to his feet.

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Norrington's arm and hauling. “Want to go down to the beach.”

Norrington followed, reaching for the bottle. “Fine, but we're not sleeping in the sand tonight,” he insisted. “The tide is still left in my breeches.”

“Oh, I wager there's a tide in there, all right,” Jack laughed. They headed for the beach.

***

“Come on, the water's great,” Jack called, wading into the waves.

“Mister Sparrow, it's the Caribbean. The water is always tempered,” Norrington said, laughing at nothing. He drunk some more rum, until he realized that the bottle was empty.

“That's _Captain_ Sparrow, commodore,” Jack said petulantly. He'd discarded his shirt and was about to lie back and float. His breeches were soaked.

“But my clothes just dried,” the other man whined. “And we have nowhere to sleep that's dry!”

“Coward,” Jack called back. He stood up in the water, the small waves lapping at mid-thigh height. “Be a man, you rotten scurvy!”

Norrington sighed and began taking off his coat and shirt. “Scoundrel!”

“Scallywag!” Jack smirked. “Landlubber!”

Norrington, agitated and drunk, finally threw down his shirt and kicked off his boots, difficult enough while sober. “See, I'm in,” he shouted, splashing more water than strictly necessary. “You... pirate!”

Jack turned to look at the other man, a contemplative look in his eyes. “A pirate, me? No, commodore, _we're_ pirates. At least we would be if we had a ship.”

Norrington shrugged, then brought a hand to his head as if on afterthought. “Have I still got my wig on?”

Jack waded over to the other man, reaching for the wig in question. “Give it here, it sits better on me.”

“No,” Norrington said, sulkily now. “You shan't have it.” He took it off himself, then held it at arm's length away from Jack. The pirate stepped up close to Norrington, reaching around him to get at the wig. They laughed.

Then Jack suddenly stopped, staring directly at the other man. Still reaching around him, but not moving.

Norrington frowned. “What?”

Jack's grin was no longer drunken and giddy. The one that slowly spread over his face now, was lewd and predatory. Positively carnivorous.

“Commodore,” he said, pressing just a little bit closer. Norrington felt their bare chests bump into each other and flinched.

“Commodore, I think you should know that you are quite pretty yourself,” Jack said, voice husky. “I didn't see it while you had your coat on. But I think... and this is just my personal opinion, mind... that you're easier on the eyes than both Will _and_ Miss Swann.”

Norrington let out a rush of breath with a strangled, “What?”

“Well, just look at this,” the pirate chuckled, gesturing to Norrington's shirtless torso. “And I'm sure that if I look at this -” His hands made a grab for Norrington's trousers, hooking a few fingers of each hand inside the waistband.

Norrington gave an undignified squawk and slapped the other man's fingers away. “Sparrow! Have you gone mad?”

Jack licked his lips in a highly provocative manner. “No. But I have gone for a long time without company.”

Norrington turned beet red. “That is no excuse to commit... disgraceful acts,” he stuttered.

“I am offended, commodore,” Jack declared, even while sliding one hand sensuously around the other man's waist. “You don't even know what I was going to do.”

“I can guess!” Norrington sounded rather desperate. Jack was smirking viciously.

“Come now, commodore,” he said, sliding his other hand around Norrington's neck. “No reason to get nervous.”

The former officer noticed a distinct hardness against his thigh and yelped. His hands fell limply to his sides in his embarrassment, the wig trailing the water's surface from his hand.

“You'll get your wig wet,” Jack commented, his head dipping slowly. One hand slid from Norrington's waist to the front of his breeches, the other remained firmly around his neck, holding him in place.

Norrington gasped when Jack's lips landed on his sternum. The pirate's beard scratched his skin just below the wet tongue that was suddenly darting repeatedly against his skin.

“Sparrow,” he hissed, “what are you doing?”

Jack smiled hotly up at him, then dipped his head even further down, heading next for Norrington's nipple. “I'm sensing a certain resistance, hmm, commodore?”

“Damn right you are!” the former officer croaked, his voice barely there. But his hand, as if controlled by someone else entirely, folded gently around the back of the pirate's scraggly head, fingers burrowing softly into the brown hair.

“There we go!” Jack encouraged, punctuating his statement with a little bite to the pebbled flesh beneath his lips. “Come, commodore, let's get your wig even wetter.”

Norrington grunted in agreement and finally pulled the other man closer, relived to feel the hot skin against his own. “Fine.”

But when Jack looked up at him, eyes twinkling between kohl lines, and grinned, Norrington promptly forgot about the wig and dropped it into the water. He needed his hand free to lean against Jack's shoulder.

“Captain, am I to understand that you and I are about to perform unspeakable acts of sin?” Norrington slurred, looking with uncertainty and hunger at the other man.

“Commodore, I could not have said it better,” Jack laughed, leaning closer. “But I think we ought to kiss first. Proper decorum must be maintained.”

Norrington laughed at that. “Then I insist you refer to me as ´commodore`,” he grinned, the rum pulsing warmly through him.

“And you shall call me ´captain` at all times,” Jack agreed, moving both hands to the other man's waist.

Norrington, his smile disappearing in a hungry expression, placed both arms around Jack's neck. “This will be nothing like kissing a woman, will it?”

Jack shook his head, smirking. “I bloody hope not!”

It was definitely not like kissing a woman. Jack's beard scratched Norrington's chin, and they both pulled and grabbed at each other with force. Norrington was panting into the pirate's mouth, making little sounds of pleasure as he felt their twin erections rub together through their clothes.

“Captain,” he gasped, “I must confess, before we proceed, that I have never done this before.”

“Not even with a woman?” Jack said, incredulous.

“Idiot,” Norrington replied, “of course with a woman. But I've never... with a man.”

“Not to worry, commodore,” Jack said, voice sleek and husky. “It's not difficult. You just lie down – not here, unless you'd like to drown – and let me do the rest.”

“Then let's go to it,” Norrington said, smiling. Even in his current state, he could do that. Didn't sound all that difficult.

It took some time to get back to the beach, mainly because Norrington was too drunk to walk straight and Jack was groping the other man as they went. As soon as they reached the water's edge, Norrington turned expectantly to Jack. He was beginning to feel more than a little interested.

“Well?”

But the pirate just grinned at him and nodded towards the sand. “Lie down, then, commodore. Front down, so to speak.”

Norrington had some trouble lying down – he was hard and drunk; not a good combination – but complied. Jack followed, straddling the other man's backside.

“Now, commodore, let me just get these off,” Jack said, a growl in his voice as he began opening his breeches. He lifted off Norrington, pulled the other man's trousers down, and leaned down to huff in his ear, “Lift your arse, man.”

Blushing, Norrington did. He could feel Jack stripping him. He was starting to feel a bit apprehensive, but the pirate had told him to just lie down and -

“Sparrow!” Norrington yelped when he felt calloused hands warmly cupping the flesh of his backside. “What are you doing?”

“I'm doing all the work,” Jack growled, and then Norrington heard him spit. “Lie still, commodore.”

Norrington did, apprehensively. He could hear a slight moan escape the pirate's lips, and sensed movement behind him – above him. Then a hand returned to his skin, rubbing it slowly.

“Captain,” Norrington stuttered, feeling that hand move between his cheeks. “Is this... necessary?”

“Well, where else do you want me to stick it?” Jack laughed. “I could have just as much fun with your mouth, commodore, but I doubt you'd like it.”

The former officer didn't say anything else. But he tensed in fear when he felt a finger trying to make entry where he'd never even _considered_ anything to enter.

“Don't worry, it only hurts at first,” Jack said, and then the finger slipped in, briefly.

“Hurts?” Norrington whimpered.

_Oh._ That was no finger. Barely slick skin covering something large, blunt and hot was pressing against a tight ring of nerve endings and muscle Norrington had barely been aware he had.

And with a sharp thrust of the pirate's hips, that _something_ was inside him

_Inside... Oh God!_

“Commodore, you'll have to be more... compliant,” Jack said, voice tight and strangled. “Otherwise neither of us will have much fun.”

Norrington was gasping for breath. “Hurts,” he rasped, clawing at the sand. “Hurts!”

“It won't, if you'll relax,” Jack growled. He pushed forward, further into the other man.

Norrington bit his lip. He was a man, dammit, he was not going to wail and complain like some wench on her wedding night! He focused on breathing, trying to let his body accept the pain.

And Jack's... Jack's...

Norrington groaned at the thought of what was pushing hotly inside him, and Jack let out a breath before rocking back a little.

“Better, commodore; you're learning,” the pirate said, grinning. Norrington didn't see the smirk; he _heard it_ in the other man's voice.

“Are you _enjoying_ this, captain?” Norrington bit out, panting into the sand. He felt distinctively uncomfortable, though the worst of the pain was receding.

“Oh, yes,” Jack moaned, pressing deep into Norrington's tense body. The man on his stomach yelped. “Lovin' every second of it.”

Norrington knew he was blushing. But then a calloused hand grasped his hip, the pirate found leverage, and the next time Jack's hard flesh thrust inside him, it ran into something that made fire explode behind Norrington's eyes.

“Ohh!”

Extremely undignified, Norrington moaned desperately as pleasure like nothing he'd felt before drove through him, followed by Jack's demanding hardness.

“Jack,” he panted, “do that... again!”

Jack thrust again, but didn't find that spot. “Captain.”

“Captain, blast it, do that again!” Norrington growled, hands digging puddles in the sand of their own accord.

Jack angled his hips lower, pushing deeper yet. “Again?”

And there it was; fire behind his eyes and shards of pleasure through his entire body. Norrington groaned, and Jack did that again, again, again. Until the former officer couldn't breathe, could only hiss Jack's name.

“Jack!”

And to his shame, to his surprise and with an intense wave of screaming pleasure, Norrington gave in and climaxed.

“Commodore!” Jack said, voice even more strangled. “Commodore, you...” And then his voice, too, died in a deep groan of pleasure as he spent himself inside the other man, pulsing slowly with heat.

Norrington felt the other man sink down on him and closed his eyes, heaving for breath. _Oh God!_

“Oh, commodore, you _are_ much prettier than both Miss Swann and Will thrown together,” Jack huffed, and Norrington almost whimpered at the sudden feeling of emptiness as Jack drew out.

“Much, much prettier.”

Norrington blushed and rested his head on his arms, feeling Jack still on top of him. “Much prettier?”

Jack considered for a moment, then grinned against the other man's skin. “Well, perhaps not prettier than Will when you're dressed. But when you're moaning like that, you're bloody beautiful.”

Norrington blushed again, but he smiled, too. “Why, thank you, captain.”

“Your wig is gone,” Jack continued, rolling onto his back in the sand.

Norrington followed suit, lying on his back next to the pirate. “Sod the wig.”

“Well, it's wet anyway, probably can't be used for anything at all,” Jack muttered, sounding drunk-sleepy.

A lengthy pause, and Norrington was about to drift off.

“Let's find a ship tomorrow,” Jack said, in the middle of a yawn. “Return to proper piracy.”

“What, you're not content with drinking rum and... performing horrid, sinful things?” Norrington said, rolling over until his back was pressed against the pirate's side.

Jack grinned then, making Norrington squirm under his gaze. “Commodore, that _is_ piracy. And I live for it.”


End file.
